


Fate is a keen-eyed hound

by LydiaFearing



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Bottom Will Graham, Dogs, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Happy Will Graham, M/M, Top Hannibal Lecter, they're both still weirdos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaFearing/pseuds/LydiaFearing
Summary: Hannibal may be a successful, charming psychiatrist but Mischa worries that her brother is lonely (and maybe the jokes about eating people might stop being jokes some day) so she gifts him a puppy. Hannibal reluctantly falls for his little dog but wants to get involved with time-consuming FBI work and not just anyone can be allowed to look after his pet. Luckily, Alana can recommend a boarding kennel in Wolf Trap.Dog owner AU, pretty fluffy. Hannibal is healthier for his sister being alive but is still a bit dark. Will is healthier for not working for the FBI anymore but is still appreciative of darkness.Inspired by Reapersun's art and story outline.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 32
Kudos: 382





	Fate is a keen-eyed hound

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to have a habit of writing fics where Will isn't FBI. My OTP is him with happiness.
> 
> Tried not to make them OOC but it's an AU so maybe some of that.
> 
> This is just my take on Reapersun's art and story outline for a commission they did. The art is super cute so whatever you think of my writing, please check it out. (I also really recommend their Hannigram comic Black Lamb, it's maybe my favourite Hannibal fanwork ever.)

Hannibal returned home late, thrilled by meeting Jack Crawford. Through Alana’s recommendation, the head of the FBI’s Behavioural Science Unit had turned up at his office to discuss consulting on future cases.

There was a dangerous temptation there. Hannibal had always been a man inclined to dark, vicious thoughts. He often thought that if he had less to lose, he would be quite comfortable acting those thoughts out. In his younger days, his sister had talked him down from confronting a number of deserving candidates. Even in recent years, he had come rather close to encouraging some of his most interesting patients in their more destructive tendencies. Allowing himself to indulge in picking apart the sinister motivations of active serial killers was both risky to his self-control and entirely irresistible.

It was only as he was hanging up his coat that he sensed something was off. With a small tilt of his head, he inhaled. Peony, lily-of-the-valley and strawberry. Unfamiliar.

There was someone else here.

He slipped off his shoes and moved quietly along the wall toward the kitchen. He heard humming and the delicate sound of a teacup being placed on a saucer.

He peered through the door to confirm his suspicions before confronting the intruder with a sigh.

“Mischa. To what do I owe the pleasure of you breaking into my home.”

His sister smiled, blonde hair loose about her shoulders and her hands held close to the warmth of her cup of earl grey tea.

“Come now, is it breaking in when I have a key?”

Despite his irritation, he could never truly be angry with her. He greeted her with a squeeze to the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek.

“It is when you made a copy of that key without my permission.”

Mischa rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea.

“Saving you the trouble, my darling brother. No doubt you simply forgot to have one made for me before now. You crept in here as though you were going to — do what exactly? Strangle whoever was here raiding your pantry?”

Hannibal paused as he lifted a bottle of pinot grigio from the refrigerator.

“You changed your perfume,” Hannibal said, as though it were an accusation.

“As I often do. In general, if one is afraid there is a burglar in the house, one calls the proper authorities. I often worry you’re hoping for a fight. An excuse.”

Hannibal didn’t look at her as he poured himself a glass of wine, taking his time to appreciate the bouquet before taking a sip and returning his attention to Mischa.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

Mischa frowned briefly before shaking her head and letting her face relax back into an open smile. She was never able to truly scold her big brother.

“Topic thoroughly changed. Yes, if you’ll allow me. There is a small risk I won’t be welcome at your table. First you must forgive me for being a few days early but I came all this way to wish you a happy birthday.”

“That’s kind of you and certainly no reason to remove my only sister from my kitchen.”

“The second thing you must forgive is that I’ve brought a gift. I had better give it to you before you sniff it out.”

Mischa stood with a pleased little clap of her hands and strode to the back door. Hannibal followed as far as the doorway in his socks and watched as his sister bent down in front of a sizeable cage that had certainly not been there this morning. It was full of blankets, cushions and something shivering. She opened the cage door and knelt to scoop out whatever little beast had been curled up in there. When she stood up she looked pleased with herself and held out a grey, bony little dog.

“Mischa.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“A puppy? Really?” he asked.

Mischa strode back into the kitchen, carefully wiping her shoes at the door.

“She’s a gorgeous, thoroughbred Italian greyhound,” she said, seemingly more directed at the puppy herself and not Hannibal. “The favourite loyal companion of Catherine the Great and Anne of Denmark. A clever, sensitive dog.”

“A terrified, trembling little thing far removed from its wolf ancestors. May I ask what inspired this, dear sister?”

She held the puppy out and her brother scooped the little thing into his arms with the well-worn look of a long-suffering eldest sibling. The puppy gave his hand an apologetic little lick and she quickly curled into a ball in his arms. He could see the rhythm of her tiny heart beating in chest, as delicate and fast as a hummingbird.

Mischa took a firm grip of his elbow.

“I worry you’re lonely,”she said, without pity or sadness. Just the concern and regard she always showed him.

“Being alone and being lonely are not the same thing.”

“I’m not our Uncle, I don’t care if you never want a partner or children but I can’t remember the last time you had someone you cared about. Besides me, before you say it. Affairs can be lovely things and having lots of clever acquaintances can be a delight. An affair is not the same thing as a lover. An acquaintance is not the same thing as a friend. I want you to have someone in your life who you can trust with your whole self.”

“And you’ve decided I should place my trust in an animal who appears frightened of her own shadow.”

Mischa sat back in her seat, looking quite smug.

“She doesn’t look all that frightened now she has you.”

The puppy’s face was tucked against his chest and she appeared to be drifting off to sleep. The trembling had mostly stopped.

“I’m considering doing some work for the FBI. I don’t know that I have time to dedicate to training a puppy.”

“Oh please, you could have her playing the harpsichord by the end of the week if you really wanted.If you don’t wish to keep her, I’ll find another home for her but promise me you’ll try for six months.”

Six months of terrible potential.Six months of sharp little teeth chewing soft leather, of accidents on otherwise spotlessly clean floors, of time taken away from fascinating new work. Not forever though. His sister had always been hard to argue with but she held true to her word.

“As you wish, I’ll care for her for six months and then we’ll see where we stand. This is an interesting take on gift giving.”

Mischa simply laughed and raised her tea cup in a victorous salute. She was confident this compromise meant the dog was as good as his. The vulnerability of the sleeping beast in his arms was endearing but all the same, a burden. He moved close to Mischa to pass it on.

“For now, if you could take her. As she is as yet untrained, I must fetch my own slippers before I start on dinner.”

“Come here, sweet girl,” Mischa whispered to the little dog. “Do you have a name in mind?”

He rubbed his thumb over her silky little head. A burden but also a gift. Well-intentioned from the one person in the world who had a fair idea of exactly what he was capable and loved him all the same. A fated little thing as his sister has always been.

“Laima.”

**Seven months later**

From her bed in the corner of the his office, Laima met Hannibal’s eyes with a look of exasperation. She so hated it when patients cried. Hannibal was careful not to smile at her disgruntled face and the following anxious yawn. So very close to his own feelings. Franklyn blew his nose for the eighth time in five minutes. He had worked himself up about his self-diagnosed uniqueness, too different from everyone to truly find companionship. A frustrating thing to hear from someone so desperately ordinary.

Hannibal kept his face composed and almost bank but for a slight sympathetic turn of his lips. He handed Frankly another tissue. To crush his own grandiose ideas of himself without delicacy was always a temptation, just to see how he would break. Anger and shouting or turning inward and silent as his own sense of self was shattered?

Admittedly, it was not Hannibal’s compassion or his professionalism that stayed his hand from crushing Franklyn’s spirit completely. It was the significant risk of his being even more tearful and then becoming more fixated than ever on the idea of Hannibal as his only friend and confidante. He had already started wearing suits with similar patterns and fishing for exactly what cologne Hannibal favoured. At some point, it was likely he would have to be referred before his need for personal approval from Hannibal became an obsession. That would be a difficult exercise in its own right.

“Franklyn, we only have a minute or so left. I want you to do something for me before next week’s appointment.”

He blew his nose again while nodding frantically.

“Oh whatever you need, Dr Lecter. I’d love to help. If you need any recommendations for - ”

“It’s homework for your own well-being,” Hannibal said. In general, he did his best to show everyone the common courtesy of not interrupting them mid-sentence but he feared a headache if he had to listen to much more.

“I want you to write a list of at least five people in your life and three things you have in common with each of them. I would ask you refrain from including me or any other health professionals on the list. Your own acquaintances, colleagues, family and friends. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, sure. Are you sure I can’t include you? We have so much in common, that one would be easy,” Franklyn said with a wide, hopeful smile.

Hannibal restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

“The purpose is to find common ground where you may has assumed there was none. There’s little point in there exercise if it’s commonality you’ve already noticed and I would prefer these were relationships that existed outside of the paradigm of being a patient. Now, Franklyn, if you’re quite ready. I have other patients I must not keep waiting.”

“Of course, Dr Lecter. I’ll think about the other people in my life, the one’s I clearly have much less in common with than with you.”

Franklyn stopped by Laima’s dog-bed, bending at the knees to look at her properly while keeping enough distance that demonstrated he was clearly nervous of dogs.

“Goodbye, Laima, little sweetheart,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Hannibal had little patience with people speaking to his dog as though she were an infant rather than an intelligent, alert sighthound. It came with being so small. Laima seemed to share her owner’s resentment and only sneezed at Franklyn in response as Hannibal whisked him toward the patient exit.

The forty minute gap before his next appointment meant plenty of time to make two lines of notes on Franklyn and then take Laima for a brisk walk. She had taken to walking on a leash quickly, stepping elegantly in her tweed coat. She had grown but still retained the small size of her breed and the bounce of her puppyhood. Getting her in the routine of keeping her close to heel had just taken patience, a firm yet calm tone of voice and a pocket full of little morsels of handmade sausage.

Just as they began their return to the office, Hannibal’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He felt a pulse of excitement seeing the name on-screen.

“Hello Jack.”

“Dr Lecter, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Hannibal stopped and turned as far from the traffic as he could. Lamia came to a restful sitting position by his foot and accepting her treat delicately.

“Not at all. Taking advantage of the time between patients to stretch my legs. How can I be of assistance?”

“Well Doctor, we could really use some new insight on a recent case. It’s likely you’ve heard something about it on the news. Girls going missing, same age, all of a similar physical type. We’ve had a break and we would really benefit having someone with your expertise joining us out in Minnesota while we try to narrow down the search.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

**

“I could watch her for you?” Alana offered.

Hannibal allowed himself to frown slightly at his phone where it was lying on the counter top as he kneaded bread dough. There was no one who might possible see except Laima who was enjoying a well earned nap.

Laima did not like anyone besides Hannibal. She tolerated Mischa but Mischa was visiting their aunt in Paris. Leaving her with Alana and Applesauce, even for one night, was far from ideal. Laima disliked other dogs and Alana’s work schedule would likely mean Laima would have to be left alone with the other dog for some time. Who knows what indignities she may have to suffer.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean,” Alana replied with a quiet laugh.

“It’s not a matter of trust, Alana. It’s Laima’s comfort and the risk of inconveniencing my friend.”

“Sure,” she said, not believing him. She has always been sharp.

“I sometimes use a wonderful kennel in Virginia. She’d have round the clock attention as and when she wants it. Belongs to a friend of mine. He used to teach at Quantico.”

“That’s quite the career change.”

“Yeah. He was brilliant. He even helped with some investigations but it was impacting his mental health. But he’s really found his calling now. I can promise you, he is amazing with dogs and perfectly able to give them what they need on an individual basis. He’s a little gruff with people but Laima couldn’t be in safer or more caring hands.”

The FBI connection intrigued Hannibal admittedly. So few of their staff seemed willing to admit how their work affected them or to turn from the perceived glory of their role. Then again, the idea of someone cringing away from the horrors of the FBI cases seemed so terribly mundane. And Laima would hate to be in some noisy, strange place overnight. All the same, he couldn’t bring her to Minnesota and if Alana felt the kennel was safe and well-operated, it might be the best of a bad lot.

“It’s an option. Let me clean my hands and I’ll take the name and number from you.”

**

It didn’t look promising. The kennel appeared to operate out of the owner’s home. An unassuming white wooden house with a few converted outbuildings and dog runs attached. It was quite isolated, surrounded by fields and some woodland. And a great deal of mud.

Lifting Laima from her secure booster seat in the car, he gave her a tender chin scratch to comfort her before setting her down in the grass. She waited as he lifted out a large travel bag for her which included one of her more easily transported beds, her favourite blankets and enough homemade food and treats to sustain her for the next 24 hours or so.

When they made their way up to the front door, Hannibal noticed a note below the doorbell stating that if there was no answer, to go around the back of the house. He pressed it once, waited thirty seconds or so and then pressed it again. He was forced to accept the note’s advice, quietly annoyed. He had called ahead, the owner knew when he was coming and he had arrived punctually. Hannibal was tempted to abandon the whole endeavour at this display of casual, inconsiderate customer service but it had been a long enough drive from Baltimore that he wouldn’t possibly have time to get another place for Laima ahead of his flight.

Rounding the side of the house, they found a man in his thirties, dark haired with glasses, sat on the ground covered in a wide range of enthusiastic dogs. Each one, stupid, slobbering and so very unlike his delicate Laima. This was going to be an ordeal for her, no doubt. He had read a few of the online reviews to corroborate what Alana had said and all the feedback he had read was incredibly positive. He had not had time to look at every review site or research other options and now he regretted it terribly. By her own admission, this man was Alana’s friend so her view of his work was biased. And what she sought in a caregiver for her dog was unlikely to perfectly align with what Hannibal expected. She was a smart, wonderful woman but she had, after all, named her own dog Applesauce.

“Excuse me, my name is Dr Hannibal Lecter. I had booked an overnight stay for my dog from today.”

“Oh, welcome,” the man said before laughing as a St. Bernard licked his face and hair, leaving one curl sitting at a wild angle. He slowly managed to stand up without treading on any paws.

“Will Graham. Sorry about the chaos. You caught us at playtime.”

They shook hands and Hannibal noted Will Graham’s avoidance of eye contact, the appealing blue of his irises, the strong grip of his hand. He also noted the damp, muddy stains on his jeans and the grass in his hair.

“And your dog?”

“This is Laima.”

He turned to look approvingly at his little dog, sat upright, head aloft. Calm and dignified.

“She doesn’t play or… roughhouse. She isn’t particularly fond of anyone besides myself, and to an extent, my sister. Please don’t take it to heart if she keeps to herself. Likely she’ll be happier that way. I’ve packed some of her things to minimise the disruption for her.”

“Great. Just leave the bag on the porch. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

Hannibal reluctantly handed the end of the leash to Will Graham.

“You can pick her up any time after 1pm, give me call if it’s going to be later than 8, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Will Graham started walking Laima away. She looked back at Hannibal and then up at the new person directing her in some confusion but she walked as expected. It gave Hannibal a small pang of guilt and a larger burst of anger.

Hannibal took a deep breath and tried not to visualise a more violent reaction. He needed to be in the right frame of mind if he was to spend the time with the FBI and appear the asset they hoped he was. It was only for one night after all.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he called out, seemingly to no one and went back to his car.

**

Alone, tired and uncomfortable in a dingy motel room generously provided by the FBI, Hannibal tried to ring the kennel for the third time. The phone was answered on the tenth ring.

“Hello, Wolf Trap Boarding Kennels?”

“Mr Graham, it’s Dr Hannibal Lecter. Laima’s owner.”

“Dr Lecter, right, Just call me Will. Are you going to be late for pick-up?”

“I’m afraid much later than I planned. I’m across the country and it appears I will be needed here until Thursday. I am sorry to trouble you but would you have the capacity to keep Laima for the next two nights? Any additional charges for the short notice will be acceptable.”

“That’s no trouble, Dr Lecter. Laima doesn't cause trouble and she doesn’t take up much room. The usual cost of three nights will do. Worth mentioning, she has almost finished all the food you provided for her so I will have to feed her what I have in the house. The price already includes the costs for food, I only bring it up to make sure that’s acceptable? I make the dog’s food myself so I can guarantee it is well balanced but I don’t know if she has any known allergies.”

“No allergies, no.”

His heart sank a little, imagining what poor quality food she would have to suffer. At least it wasn’t store-bought but there was a possibility she may have standards too high to eat what Will could provide and the idea of her going hungry was hard to ignore.

“I appreciate you’ll feed her something nutritious. Do let me know if you have any trouble getting her to eat.”

“Will do.”

“I presume she’s doing well?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been doing my best to use the opportunity to help socialise her a little.I know it can be hard to find a safe way to do that for a puppy when you have a busy lifestyle. Hopefully she’ll come back to you a more confident dog.”

Hannibal took a moment to realise both that he was expected to respond appreciatively and that he was, in fact, incredibly angry. He made a concerted effort to keep his tone reasonable.

“Laima is as socialised as she chooses to be. She simply doesn’t enjoy the company of other dogs.”

“With all due respect, Dr Lecter, Laima is still a puppy or thereabouts. What is she, one year old?”

“A month short. That does not mean my understanding of my own dog is less than that of a man who has spent one day with her.”

“Uh huh, maybe we put this conversation on hold until you’re back. I assume you’ve had a long day, Doctor.”

He had. It had been a day of busywork, of a very stressed Jack Crawford and few opportunities to make decent food. That Will was right just made it even more aggravating to be dismissed because that was not why he was angry. But Hannibal had always prided himself on being in firm control of his emotions. Arguing with a man 1,000 miles away, and with possession of Laima, would be counterproductive. It would be better to continue this on more even footing.

“Fine. Thank you for your accommodating attitude, Will. Until Thursday.”

“Goodbye, Dr Lecter.”

**

Hannibal arrived at the kennel on Thursday afternoon, eager to rescue his dog. He didn’t bother ringing the doorbell, the sounds of excited dogs at play quite audible from the back garden.

Will Graham was throwing tennis balls, one after another for a few different mutts at a time. There weren’t enough balls that they had one each but enough to send them away from him in small, excitable clusters. Pack predators keen to win their prey.

After a tedious few days that ended in a bloodbath he did not even have the delight of witnessing, the sight of Will Graham was a surprising pleasure. An open smile on an endearingly handsome face. Hair tossed by the wind, elusive eyes which were bright with joy.

“Will. Good afternoon. I don’t want to interrupt the game. Is Laima inside?”

“She’s on her way,” he replied with a chuckle as a small grey bullet made a beeline across the field straight for Hannibal and arrived with an excited yelp.

Laima was panting, her tongue lolling out ridiculously. Her paws were barely under control as she danced around Hannibal’s feet, her tail swinging in wide, rapid circles. She didn’t look like herself at all. Hannibal did his best to keep his face neutral as he turned to address Will but he seemed to read beneath Hannibal’s mask at a glance.

“There’s no point in being angry, she’s happy,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender before giving in the the excited mass around him and throwing another tennis ball.

“It took until this morning but she’s starting to really enjoy the other dogs’ company. She doesn’t quite grasp fetch yet. She runs alongside the others mostly but it’s definitely progress.”

Hannibal looked back down at his little dog. She looked idiotic. She looked undignified and so very different than expected. She looked delighted.

He sighed in defeat and scooped her up, as careful of muddy paws as was possible. He could not avoid a few enthusiastic licks on his cheek and across his silk tie. Will gave the other dogs some signal that the game was over and they dispersed to roam and play around in the grass at their own leisure. He turned toward Hannibal and Laima, back to avoiding eye contact with the other human, easily sharing it with the dog.

“I’m sure you have some dog parks much nearer home than here but if you can be persuaded that it is worth getting her properly socialised, I wouldn’t charge you to visit. An hour or two a week? I can teach you how to play with her, if you like. Or you could just drop her off if that suits you better.”

Will, still resolutely avoiding eye contact, lifted Laima’s bag from the back steps and walked with them around the front of the house.

“It’s a generous offer.”

It was. Hannibal was still deeply offended by Will’s interference even as he recognised it as a kindness for Laima’s sake. It was undeniable that he was offering his time and his energy to make life a bit easier for a dog for no reward for himself. An admirable aspect of the man but also frustrating because it was difficult to tell if his interest was purely for the dog or if it extended to the owner.

“But?”

Hannibal opened the car, placing Laima in her enclosed booster seat and her bag in the back before facing Will again. Perhaps that interest was already on Hannibal in part. The offer having been made had left Will frowning with awkwardness and flushing attractively. It was hard to resist drawing out the discomfort.

“But I think I should thank you properly first for the kindness you’ve shown Laima. I’d like to make you dinner. Would it be impractical to ask you to come to Baltimore without your pack for an evening?”

“You are paying me for looking after your dog, you don’t need to do anything else for me.”

“I do understand that, Will. I would enjoy it.”

Will was debating with himself and appeared to come to a conclusion as he finally met Hannibal’s eyes with a nod of his head.

“I think I can manage to get away for a meal.”

“Wonderful. You have my contact details already, Will. I’d like to propose Saturday at 7. You can let me know if that doesn’t suit.”

**

It became clear to Hannibal that even as Will got to know him, more honestly than anyone other than his sister, he was not afraid of him.

Hannibal tried not to hide from Will. He spoke about his interest in the murder cases he was assisting. His fascination with violence and its artistic aspects, with destruction as a form of intimacy. Will didn’t flinch. He instead offered his own insight. Detailed, thoughtful and full of feeling. And best of all, the little Hannibal did hide through habit and some residual fear of rejection was somehow quite visible to Will.

After a trip to the dog park with Laima and Will’s calmest dog, Winston, Hannibal drove Will back to his home in Baltimore.

“You hide it well, but you have a temper,” Will told him after another driver had cut him off in an arrogant and dangerous manoeuvre.

“I am certainly frustrated with aspects of humanity at times. That’s surely reasonable.”

“Of course but even when it is reasonable, you restrain yourself from expressing it. That’s telling. What do you visualise when you are angry with someone, Hannibal? I have a feeling those pictures in your head are terrifying and beautiful.”

It was frightening how tempted he was to bare himself completely to Will.

It was almost six weeks of doggy playdates and shared meals when things finally shifted. After another dinner where Hannibal didn’t have to be careful of his every word, he felt drunk more on happiness than the zinfandel he was pouring into Will’s glass. Without thought, he caught Will’s mouth in a kiss and Will kissed him back. The wine was set aside and Hannibal caressed Will’s hands as he led him to the stairs.

Actions escalated quickly as they moved; hungry mouths, buttons opened, skin discovered. The twin desires to know and be known were overwhelming. Will’s well muscled arms, the smell of his sweat, the smooth skin of his back, the give in the firm flesh of his ass. His eyes seeing every part of Hannibal, his hands touching every part of Hannibal.

Arriving to his bedroom was slowed by the hunger to touch, lick and kiss.

Will bit gently at his earlobe before asking in a torturously low voice, “How do you want this to go?”

Hannibal held his face in his hands and tried for as much honesty as he could bear.

“I need to be inside you, Will. I need to be a part of you.”

He had dreamed of tearing him open and licking his ribs clean. He couldn’t have that without losing him but he could get as close as was safe.

Will looked him in the eyes, seeing more than either of them said and he nodded, “Okay. Just tell me what to do.”

“All fours. Here, facing the foot of the bed, that’s it.”

Will did as instructed. He looked up through his curls and spotted the image of himself, bare and displayed, in the mirror on the wall.

“That mirror is… quite the design choice.”

Hannibal smiled, running his hands from Will’s hair, down his shoulders and back. His own eyes flicking between the warm flesh under his hands and Will’s eyes reflected back at him.

“Yes. The human body is a beautiful thing, yours in particular. I think it worth appreciating fully.”

Hannibal leaned over toward his beside drawer and retrieved a beautiful little bottle of lubricant and several condoms.

“I’m going to open you up now, ” he said. His thumb trailed between Will’s cheeks slowly, giving Will time to change his mind.

“Okay,” Will replied.

Hannibal began preparing Will with restraint, focused on care and reassurance. Will was a man who rarely sought touch but seemed to desperately enjoy it when he allowed himself. It was imperative that he had a positive experience to reward his offering his vulnerable body so willingly. When it was safe to do so, the movement of Hannibal’s hands transformed from care into worship. He watched the muscles of Will’s thighs and stomach tense with pleasure, the soft noises from his mouth growing less soft and more tortured. His own cock wept with pleasure in watching and in anticipation of what was to come.

Hannibal removed his fingers. While kissing along Will’s spine, he prepared himself before carefully and eagerly pushing inside. He watched himself enter Will, focused on the look and feel of being as deep within him as he could be without cutting him open.

“Sit up, Will. Now lean back. I want you to take control, can you do that?”

“I think so, I - ah, ahhh.”

Hannibal knelt back and arranged Will on him lap. He could see some of their reflection over Will’s shoulder. Will’s red, bitten lips. His eyes rolling upwards in pleasure.

Will found a comfortable rhythm, moving his hips, lifting a little and then a lot, keeping himself on the edge. Sweat chased down his body like pearls. The world was reduced to their immediate senses. The touch and scent of their bodies. The sounds of their pleasure, their effort. 

Then a sudden high pitched squeak that pierced the air.

Laima stood on her hind legs, front paws delicately propping her on the edge of the bed. She stared at Will with big, besotted eyes. In her mouth, a new toy fox gave another squeak as she pressed down on it.

Will stopped moving and broke into a huge smile.

“Oh, Laima! Good girl, you have your foxy, huh? You want to play with foxy?”

“Will.”

“This is great, Hannibal! She’s initiating play.”

“ _Will_.”

Will lifted himself off the bed and rubbed Laima's ears.

“Such a clever girl, good girl.”

He was soon out of the room with a dog at his heels. Hannibal took a few deep breaths, trying valiantly to understand the situation before laying on his back, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands.

He should have foreseen this. He should have checked on her earlier. He should have closed the bedroom door. He should have found a man exactly like Will who was less easily swayed by puppy-dog eyes.

A few minutes passed before Hannibal heard the soft tread of bare feet come closer. He heard the sound of the door close and the feeling of the bed shift.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Will said.

Will gently pried his hands from his face. He opened his eyes to watch as Will straddled him.

“I got Winston to chase her in the garden.”

He kissed Hannibal softly and made it difficult to be frustrated with him.

”Better to check on them sooner than later so I’m proposing…”

Will, with far less gentleness, forced Hannibal’s hands above his head and pressed then into the mattress. “A slight change of tone.”

There was a mischievous glint in Will’s smile that was a rare and exciting sight.

“I believe I could be persuaded.”

“You’re going to overpower me, pin me on my back and fuck me with a hand around my throat like you’ve been wanting to.”

Hannibal froze. He had pictured it for similar for weeks now. The sound of Will’s straining breath, his eyes staring at Hannibal as he welcomed the loss of control. The feeling of fucking him with real force and knowing it was a rare thing for Will to allow. It was a fantasy and Hannibal had presumed, for now, nothing but a fantasy. He wouldn’t have dared ask it of Will yet.

His eyes welled. Will’s gorgeous, bare body above him demonstrating its power and daring him to challenge his own strength. Will’s face was open with desire and honesty. Nothing concealed between them. He felt seen. Known.

He did as he was told, forcing Will over on to his back with a quick burst of strength. Hannibal lifted Will’s legs, folding them back, exposing Will and entering him again with less care than before. He fucked him, roughly and and quickly. His hand circled his throat, Will stared into his eyes and smiled in bliss. It didn’t take long to feel overwhelmed. By Will’s acceptance. By the thrill of his vulnerability. By the feeling of his body.

Hannibal came with a rough groan, his hand on Will’s throat seizing tighter. Will didn’t turn away, he quickly followed into bliss as he touched himself.

Hannibal knew he would be permitted to do that again and more. He knew he would be eagerly asking Will to do the same to him before he let him go home.

He knew that, before all that, when they got their breath back, they would finally eat the dessert he had prepared with an accompanying glass of brandy. They would watch the dogs play in the garden as the stars made themselves known in the darkening sky.

He knew his fate was entwined in love.


End file.
